


Imagine

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [231]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, bit of angst, post case aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>imagine: verb: i-ˈma-jən: form a mental image or concept of.</p>
<p>Middle English: from Old French imaginer, from Latin imaginare ‘form an image of, represent’ and imaginari ‘picture to oneself,’ both from imago, imagin- ‘image.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imagine

**Author's Note:**

> as one of my brothers posted on Facebook today, "sending love for all who need it." I think a lot of us do.

It was one of those cases. Brutal, ugly, unnecessary violence, random, so "fucking random" as Sherlock muttered to himself in the cab ride home to Baker Street. John turned to look at his friend in surprise, as he never swore, but Sherlock had leaned against the window and closed his eyes.

"That's what I get -" he sighed.

"What?" John murmured, after a moment's hesitation.

"For complaining about being bored." 

John wanted to shake him, do something to bring them both of out their post-case funk. There was none of the adrenaline rush, the bubble of excitement. They had been up for three days straight, too tired to eat or even think about eating. When they were delivered to 221B, the cabbie looked back at them and was hesitant to wake them.

"Boys." He whispered.

"BOYS! Yer home - no charge, I know what you did tonight, heard on the radio. Nice job."

Sherlock jumped a bit, stretched, shook John awake, and nodded but still tossed him a ten pound note as he exited the cab. John followed, wondering what the hell to do now. They climbed the stairs slowly and collapsed onto the couch.

"I used to imagine I could do this job without feeling anything," Sherlock whispered to the room, perhaps he was speaking to John, but it didn't seem to matter he was there, until it did. "I tried not to care, I didn't care until you."

"Me?"

"You." Sherlock sat up, and awkwardly pulled John into a kiss. He pulled away and fell back against the back of the couch. "You make me want to feel...everything..."

"Everything?" John whispered, recovering from what had just transpired. "Maybe tomorrow -"

"No, I've thought about this for weeks, months - long before this case. I finally just realised how easily I could lose you, or something could happen to me, and you would never know -"

"Know? Know what, exactly, Sherlock?" John closed his eyes and waited.

Sherlock sighed with an edge of impatience in his voice. "How much I appreciate, admire, and want you...obviously."

"Obviously...Huh?" John opened his eyes and found himself staring into Sherlock's changing eyes. He had never allowed himself time to look too long into his flatmate's brilliant eyes, for fear that he would deduce the love in them. Now he saw them crinkle into a smile and turn from the unnameable blue to indigo and he knew he was lost. "Please, if you aren't sure, don't -"

Sherlock nodded and whispered in a voice John had never heard before, full of longing and hope. "I'm sure, I swear - only, if you aren't, you don't want, I won't bring it up again and we can go back to what we already have, it's enough for me - if you don-"

John shook his head and began unbuttoning Sherlock's soft grey shirt, effectively stopping any form of communication between them, other than their need for one another. John swiftly removed Sherlock's shirt, then his own. He ran his fingers over Sherlock's chest, and paused to place his hand over his heartbeat. He felt Sherlock mirror his action and they both trembled. John laid back on the couch and Sherlock sat back, attempting to organise his thoughts. Sherlock opened his eyes and asked quietly, "May I, can I, touch your scar, I honestly never thought you'd allow me to see it -"

John nodded and took a deep breath as Sherlock straddled his thighs, then placed a soft kiss to the very center of his damaged shoulder. "Thank you."

John understood the sentiment, and wrapped his arms and legs around his friend. "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. When you wake up tomorrow, I will still be here. Tomorrow, we will have all the time in the world. Tonight, what's left of tonight, we will sleep." He felt Sherlock nod, disentangle himself from John's limbs, then he stood and offered John his hand.

"You will be in pain if we sleep out here, my bed is closer, just changed the sheets - okay, yes, Mrs. Hudson just changed them, but - please?"

John nodded and followed him. They tumbled into bed, Sherlock curled around John and was asleep before John could tell him a hushed, "sleep tight."

 

"Did you sleep?" Sherlock asked when he opened his eyes eight hours later.

"A bit."

"Liar."

"Wasn't sure this was going to happen again."

"This, what?"

"This, you asleep curled against me, I wanted to see what you looked like asleep."

"How did I look?" Sherlock asked with a sly smirk.

"Softer, younger, innocent, almost childlike -" John blushed as he heard the words come from his mouth. Sherlock watched his face, and sighed as John turned away, embarrassed. 

"No, please. You are the first, I was honestly curious what I looked like."

"No one has ever slept with you?'

Sherlock shook his head. "You are the first, my first everything; my first friend, first kiss, and I hope - later, after breakfast, my first lover?"

John blinked away unbidden tears and pulled Sherlock into his arms again, and finally fell asleep for the first time in days.


End file.
